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Zuko began to stir slowly, feeling around the space next to him for the warm body and soft curves that belonged to his girlfriend, only to be met with cool sheets. He lifted his head up, squinting at the sunlight that was peeking through the curtains and looking around the room.
There was no water running that indicated she was taking a shower, no sound of a crying baby that usually woke him up, nor the chorus of singing narwhals that accompanied Jia’s favorite TV show.
He sat up abruptly, concern beginning to seep through his bones.
Something was wrong.
It was too quiet for an early Sunday morning when they had a one-month-old baby, all sass and demanding already, and he hadn’t slept in this late since – he can’t even remember but he was sure it was well before their daughter was born. He’s just about to get up and investigate when the door opens, and he’s hit with the smell of his favorite spices.
“Oh, good, you’re awake.”
Zuko blinks, his eyes trailing over Katara’s body, the lingering hunger that woke him up in the first place turning into a hunger and desire for something, no, someone, else. Her hair was braided into a crown, her signature loops hanging off the sides, and she was wearing a cotton nightgown meant for nursing. It shouldn’t be sexy. After all, it was one of the few items of clothing Katara owned that was actually purchased from a maternity boutique, and not just his shirts that she converted into dresses, his sweatpants, or her own wardrobe that she wore pre-pregnancy, testing just how stretchy the material was, but she was his girlfriend (and soon, she’d be his wife, once he figures out the right time to propose because he knew Katara like he knew the back of own hand – so, she would definitely, in her heightened hormonal, newly postpartum state, think he was only doing so out of an obligation, to be proper and make her a 'honest' woman) and the mother of his child.
Everything about her was just so beautiful. Even the parts of her she didn't like herself, especially those. “Down, boy.” She blushes, shyly, and he feels his chest swell with pride. Katara is loud, brash, and stubborn, and yet, he can make her so shy, wanting, needy, and submissive. “I made you breakfast. Your favorite – tamago gohan.”
It was a simple rice and egg dish that Zuko always talked so fondly of- how it reminded him of his childhood before shit hit the fan, when his mother would prepare it for him, and then, after he got a little older, when they would make it together, Azula in her high chair picking at the fish cakes Ursa set out for her while their father was “away on a business trip” which was really code for extravagant luxury vacations and get aways with whatever mistress he was seeing at the time.
“I believe I’m looking at it.”
Katara laughs, easing the tray down onto the bedside table, Zuko already working to clear it of the burp raps and nipple shields to make space for it. He was so attentive in that way. She never had to struggle because it's as if he anticipated her every want and need before she even had to ask. “Well, as appealing as that sounds, we still have a few more weeks to go. Think you can hold out until then?”
He sits up, pulling her into him. “I’ll wait forever if I have to.” He squeezes her butt through the material, humming in appreciation of the soft, meaty flesh. She always had a nice ass that he was particularly fond of, but the baby weight was settling in all the right places. He kisses her on the lips, chastely. Gone are the days when their good-morning-wake-up routine ended in soft moans, deep growls, and their love for each other spelled out with their tongues across their respective bodies.
“Now, where’s our daughter?”
She rolls his eyes. Zuko was adamant about getting his morning kisses more so from Jia than her now. She was no longer the most important girl in his life, demoted to second-in-command, although she knew that that neither her nor Jia, would ever feel like they have to compete and fight for his affection, like his own mother and sister did – Ursa trying to be the perfect wife and failing, and Azula, trying so hard to be a good daughter that both lost themselves in the end, because neither were ever good enough for him.
“Well, I only have two hands, of course. I took her out of the cradleboard to change her after I made breakfast.”
She pulls away from him and exits back into the hallway. A few minutes later, she returns, holding Jia upright.
Jia was wearing a bodysuit dress that had “Happy Father’s Day” printed on the front in glittery letters, the bottom covered in polka dots and two, little bows, her feet clad in matching white socks, which he knew was for the aesthetic more than actual comfort or warmth because once those chunky little legs got to kicking, either him or Katara would find one later wedged between the couch cushions and the other, behind the bookshelf, because they never disappeared or turned up together as a pair, wondering to themselves "how?"
Zuko looks back and forth between the two before his face breaks out into a grin, the corner of his eyes tearing up. “I completely forgot it was Father’s Day.” He whispers. “I haven’t celebrated it since I was a kid, after my mom stopped making us and…well, you know.”
“I know.” Katara smiles. “That’s why I wanted to do this for you.” She brings Jia towards him, and on instinct, recognizing his scent, the baby coos and babbles, a clear indicator that she wants him to pick her up.
“Happy Father’s Day to the best daddy in the world.” She grins, passing Jia to him. Zuko takes her excitedly, less concerned about eating, the hunger and need for nourishment forgotten as he covers her face in kisses and bounces her in his arms. “Did you help mama cook for dada? Aren’t you just so sweet?”
Next to him, his girlfriend laughs. “She did more of feeding herself than helping, the little leech.” She shakes her head. “I honestly don’t even know why I bother with clothes at all anymore. I think I would be much more productive as a milk maid if I were topless all the time.”
Zuko looks at her fondly, then shifts his gaze to her breasts. He smirks. “Well, I don’t think she, nor me, would be complaining.”
“Mhmm. I bet you wouldn’t.” She holds up a spoonful of the rice to his mouth. “Now, open up so I can feed you, and if you’re a good little boy, maybe, I’ll let you watch me in the shower later.”
After he helped her with her bath that night during their stay at the Misty Palms Oasis resort, bathing together became a regular part of their routine. It was even more necessary now as their alone time was limited, regulated to a cup of tea with lunch, late night and early morning grocery store runs while Jia slept soundly in her car seat, or a walk through the farmer’s market, one of his hands in hers while the other pushes the stroller. But, lately, Katara had grown so uncomfortable in her own body that during their last attempt, she burst into tears, crying that she didn’t want him to see her like this.
His eyebrow raises. “Wait. Are you serious?” He shakes his head. “I mean, not that I’m opposed to it, but Katara…” He lowers his voice, almost to a whisper, and stares into her eyes as if he’s trying to read them, read her. “Don’t feel like you have to, because of me. Just because it’s Father's Day. You don’t-“
Katara sets the spoon down, going to cup his face with her hands. “Zuko.” She smiles at him. “I want to.” Then, she leans down, licking the shell of his ear. “Besides, just because we can’t have sex...” She nibbles on his earlobe, smirking at his breath catching in his throat. “Doesn’t mean I can’t watch you please yourself while you look at me. Isn’t that right, daddy?”
Zuko chuckles, albeit strained. “You know, I thought that wasn’t going to sound as good coming from you anymore now that we have a child, who I will remind you, is right here so thank Agni, she doesn’t know what hell you’re talking about and won’t remember any of this either, but…” He swallows. “I was very, very wrong.”